The White Chrysanthemum
by Cyan and Bradmon
Summary: Takari fic: Now well advanced in years, Takeru finds strength and comfort from family and friends through Hikari's final days, and healing for an old wound in his past. Yes, there's character death in this, and it's sappier than a maple tree in spring. (


_ **Takari fic ...** Now well advanced in years, Takeru finds strength and comfort from family and friends through Hikari's final days, and healing for an old wound in his past. Yes, there's character death in this ... and it's sappier than a maple tree in spring ...._

**Author's Notes**   
As I write this, there is a rumour going around that Takeru will not marry Kari in the Digimon series, and that Yamato goes on to better things than even his band. "So what?" I say. This is FanFiction. Anything can happen. 

Also, throughout this story we make references to Takeru's and Hikari's children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren without making too much of an attempt to say who's who. If you get too confused, we've included a list at the end of this story. 

**Plot warning**   
This story contains an actual plot. As such, it's not really an easy read. If you're looking for something light and fluffy, sorry, this isn't it. :) 

**Standard Disclaimer**   
_Patamon:_ "Can I do it? Please?"   
_Bradmon:_ "Sure, if you want to."   
_Patamon:_ "Thanks! Patamon, digivolve to ... Angemon!"   
_Angemon:_ "Cyan and Bradmon do not own Digimon; Toei Entertainment does."   
_Angemon reverts to Patamon._   
_Cyan:_ "Well done, both of you!" 

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He could have caught a bus, but Takeru instead walked the six blocks from the mag-lev station to home. At seventy-eight he was still lean and fit, and walking helped him remain so. He moved with a measured pace, not slowly as a man of his age might, but not too quickly, lest he tire himself out. 

Less than ten minutes from the station he arrived home. He and Hikari lived in a modest dwelling in a newer part of Odaiba, where they had retired to over ten years before. The house was smaller than the one they had lived in during Takeru's years teaching middle school, for their children now were grown and they had no need for the extra rooms. 

The house was strangely quiet when Takeru entered. He would have expected the radio to be playing softly, or even Hikari singing to herself while she worked on her latest project. She was always doing something: knitting sweaters for the grandchildren, folding origami, or preparing meals in the kitchen. But there was not a sound to be heard. 

"I'm home!" he called. 

No answer. 

Perhaps Hikari was visiting a neighbour. Takeru removed his hat and shoes and went into the living room. There he stopped short, astonished at what he saw. 

Hikari was sitting on the couch in front of a low table, dressed in a traditional kimono instead of her working attire. Still as a statue, she stared at the table in front of her. The only thing on it was a shallow bowl, and in the bowl floated a white chrysanthemum. 

His beloved wife was nearly as pale as the flower. 

Only rarely had Takeru seen her like this. The kimono she wore was one she put on only for mourning: almost pure white, embroidered with flowers. It had been her grandmother's, and she had worn it at the passing of her parents and Takeru's. And only a couple of other times beyond that. 

Slowly Takeru went over to his wife. As gently as he could he sat down beside her. Putting his hand in hers, he asked, "Hikari ... who?" 

She did not answer right away. Takeru waited patiently. He knew his wife intimately; she would say something when she felt the time was right. 

Finally, with great reluctance, she spoke. She did not look at him, but continued staring at the flower. And although her voice was soft, Takeru could hear the strain in it. 

"I saw Gatomon today ..." 

She did not need to say anything more. Takeru looked at her, stunned. Finally Hikari moved her gaze from the flower to her husband. Their eyes met, and Takeru knew she was telling the truth. 

Then he buried his face in his own hands, and the tears began. 

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"You're sure it was Gatomon?" Now Takeru sat facing Hikari on the floor, holding hands together. 

"Yes, I'm sure. I haven't seen her in nearly fifty years, but there was no doubt." She struggled to to keep her composure, afraid if she began to weep, Takeru would too. "I was tending the flowers in the back garden when I heard a rustling. Then she came out from among the flowers and looked at me. Oh, she looked so sad." 

"Did she say anything?" Takeru knew the answer already, but was hoping against hope he was wrong. 

"She said, _Soon you shall be free of the burden of the Chosen._ Then she gave me the chrysanthemum, and turned and walked back into the flowers." 

Takeru struggled to keep his tears from starting again. "The same thing Palmon said to Mimi before ..." His voice trailed off. He could not finish the sentence. 

"You can say it, dear. Before she died. One week she was the very picture of health; the next she had just faded away ... she was only seventy-four. I don't think Daisuke's ever recovered." 

"What are we going to do?" Takeru's mind was in turmoil: he wasn't ready for this. Not that it was ever possible to be ready, but he had not expected it come so soon. Or so suddenly. 

"Just hold me, my love. Hold me as close and as long as you can. Then call our children. They deserve a chance to say good-bye, too." 

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An international conference call. Takeru's experience was with teaching, not the latest vidphone technology. He called his grandson Yoshiro for help. Yoshiro quickly made arrangements to get his mother Mariko and various uncles, aunts, and cousins connected for a videoconference later that day. 

The interconnected world made it easy to get email to almost everyone, but Yoshiro's aunt Youkou was more reclusive, having shunned many of the modern conveniences along with older traditions. He finally reached her on an old fashioned land-line telephone, much to his amazement: he thought they no longer existed. 

Takeru waited impatiently for the conference call to be set up. It would take a few hours, for some of his children and grandchildren were not available, being at school or at work. He tended as best he could to Hikari's needs, even making a light dinner, although neither of them really had any appetite. He replaced the water in the bowl holding the white chrysanthemum, although it did not need it. 

It was late into the evening when everyone came online for the conference call: sons, daughters, in-laws, even grandchildren; twelve in all, including Takeru. As gently as he could he told them of Hikari's condition. The news stunned everyone, and the entire channel fell silent a full minute as everyone took it in. 

"Can we come and see her now?" asked Mariko, Takeru's youngest daughter. "Or will there be too many people in the house?" 

Takeru did not care about the crowd. "Come any time. Your mother dearly wishes to see every one of you. We'll find places for you to stay here in Odaiba." 

"What about Masakumi and Hikari?" asked eldest grandson Takeo, referring to Takeru's two great-grandchildren. 

"Bring them along, too. They are too young to understand what is happening, but they should be here just the same. Their voices will bring joy and comfort to your grandmother as well." 

There was not much else to say. Takeru said good-bye to everyone and shut down the vidphone. Then he remembered another old friend, and placed a new call. 

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Mere hours after getting the call from his father, Takeru's eldest child and only son Akio arrived in Tokyo on board a transsonic jet from Hong Kong. His wife Cheiko was with him, along with their three children and two young grandchildren. Together they caught the bullet train from Tokyo to Odaiba. 

When they arrived at the house the scene was one of quiet chaos. Hikari was laying on the couch, surrounded by people. Her two daughters were there, along with her son-in-law and the two other grandchildren. The white chrysanthemum had been moved from the low table to a safer place high up in a wall unit. 

Takeru's old friend Cyan was there also: he had come immediately upon getting the call from Takeru. He was sitting quietly on the floor a short distance away. He had brought with him a few of his computer-sheets, networked computers as thin as a sheet of paper and nearly as flexible. He had three or four going at once, reading news and corresponding with friends around the world. 

The vidphone chimed constantly as calls and emails came through. Already their grandson Yoshiro had taken charge of it, sitting beside it to receive calls and read the mail. 

The doorbell beeped again, and Takeru's eldest daughter Youkou went to answer it. Moments later she returned with an old friend in tow. 

"Jyou!" exclaimed Takeru. He even managed a smile. "Thanks so much for coming." 

"Hello, Takeru." He grasped Takeru's hand and shook it firmly, then placed his other hand there as well. 

Jyou was over eighty and many years retired, but like Takeru had aged well. He looked fifteen years younger than he actually was: his face had few lines on it, and his hair was abundant, although it had gone grey and streaks of white were now showing in it. 

Neither had his medical training left him. Takeru saw he carried an up-to-date medicomp, the electronic equivalent of the medical bag doctors once carried everywhere. 

"I had to come around," Jyou continued. "I've known Hikari as long as you have. How is she?" 

"Shocked, tired, and a bit overwhelmed at all the attention." 

"I'm not surprised. And you, old friend? How are you holding up?" 

Takeru put on a brave face. "All right, I suppose, although I feel like I've been hit by a truck. And ... well ... I'm just taking it one day at a time. If I try to look any further than that I start falling apart." 

"The news has been a terrible shock to us all," said Jyou. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a look at Hikari." 

"Of course you can. I'll clear everyone out to the garden and give you two a few minutes alone." 

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Jyou's examination took half an hour. When it was done, Takeru and his son and two daughters met with him in a spare room for a private conference. Cyan was there, too: he had not really been invited in, but was there none the less, as much a member of Takeru's family as his children. 

"What did you find out?" asked Takeru. His face was full of worry. 

Jyou pressed a few buttons on the medicomp and looked up from the screen. 

"Not much, really. As far as this thing's concerned, she's in decent health. There's no pathogens in her system, no hints of cancer, no signs of heart disease or stroke." 

Takeru's blue eyes flashed. "So what's the problem?" 

"I'm as puzzled as you, Takeru. I've been Hikari's doctor for over fifty years, and her whole history's in the medicomp. Everything's just quietly shutting down. Her heart's showing only a 40, her kidneys are 55 ... at least ten points lower than they should be for her age, and down over thirty from the checkup I did when she turned seventy-five. And I suspect they're getting worse even as we speak." 

"Can you do anything for her?" asked Takeru's youngest daughter Mariko. 

Jyou looked at her, then to his longtime friend. As compassionately as he could, and slowly shook his head, and spoke quietly. 

"Not really. I could give her a few medications to try to improve her condition, but it would not really be of any use. I would simply end up going from one problem to another, and overall give her maybe another week." 

Now Takeru bowed his head. "She should live to ninety, easily!" He was beginning to sound bitter. "Neither of us have ever really been sick." 

"Me neither," said Cyan. "And I took some pretty serious injuries when I was in the Digital world." 

Jyou concurred. "All us Digidestined have had remarkably good health. Perhaps it comes at a cost." 

Takeru's son Akio, more reserved than his outgoing father, finally spoke. "I don't understand this. You're saying my mother is in good heath, but has only a short time left to her. Yet I agree with my father: she should live to ninety, if not to a hundred and beyond. I have never seen her ill. So why is she slipping away?" 

"I don't know," replied Jyou, softly. "I've been a doctor for over fifty years, and I've seen many people at the end of their lives. Your mother's condition is unusual, but not unknown to me." 

Now Youkou, the older daughter, spoke. "So you think there's nothing you can do for her?" 

"Nothing that I have not already considered." 

Youkou pressed the point. "What about other doctors? Aren't there specialists who can find out what's wrong with her and help?" 

"I suspect there are. I know a small number of geriatric physicians here in Japan, and some in North America and in Europe. But I have a word of caution. Do you remember Mimi?" 

Everyone nodded. 

"I was her doctor four years ago, and took care of her for the last week. It bothered me then that I could do so little, even with my many years of experience. After she had left us, I consulted with those doctors, and showed them a little of the data I had collected. Their conclusions, sadly, were the same as mine: a general slowing down of the life signs, for which nothing could be done." 

Takeru went silent for some time. He felt as though he would break down again, but put on a brave face for the sake of his children. Finally he spoke. "We should be thankful we have this time together. Let's give your mother what comfort and peace we can, and try to carry on." 

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Hikari's condition did not improve. The second morning after seeing Gatomon, she felt weak, and Takeru assisted her from the bedroom to the living room, where she lay on the couch the whole day. 

People from all over visited as word of her condition spread. Hikari's brother Taichi and his wife Sora arrived the next day from Nagasaki. Daisuke and Ken came too, but they were alone. Daisuke had married Mimi, and they had been together until her passing. Ken had been briefly married to Miyako--they even had a daughter--but the marriage had not lasted long, and in typical fashion Ken had not tried again. Miyako had gone on to marry Koushiro. 

Koushiro cut short his attendance at a computer history conference in Paris to fly back to Japan. He and Miyako were in Odaiba on the third day after Hikari's fateful meeting. 

Iori arrived that day, too, with his wife. The Diet was in an uproar over something or other, but this time the senior statesman decided someone else could save the ruling coalition. Iori was steadfast in his loyalty to his party and to Japan, but a fellow Digidestined took precedence over them all. 

In the midst of it all was Hikari, pale and weak, laying on the sofa in the living room. Everyone came and went on their own schedules. Children and grandchildren of all the digidestined visited as well, bringing flowers and joy. There was much talk of old times, of old digimon friends not seen for many years, and of adventures few others had ever known. 

At Hikari's request, the white chrysanthemum was moved from the high shelf back to the low table where she should see it. Takeru was afraid it would upset her, but as he watched her gaze at the flower floating in its crystal bowl he came to understand it reminded her not of the message it bore, but of Gatomon and all the fond memories that went with her. 

Hikari seemed to be in the best spirits of them all. The attention did her good, to be sure, but of all the people in the crowded living room she seemed the least sad. Very few people want to die, but Hikari felt her life was full and complete. She was simply moving on to the next stage. 

Her only regret was she would have to leave her beloved Takeru behind for a while. 

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The fourth day of Hikari's illness: overnight she had faded visibly. Now barely strong enough to stand on her own, she had made it from the bedroom to the living room only with help from one of her grandsons. The white chrysanthemum showed no signs of wilting, despite being four days removed from its mother plant. 

As much as he wanted to be by Hikari's side, Takeru felt the need to be outside for a while. He wandered out to the small garden lovingly tended all these years by his wife. The sun was bright and the birds chirped merrily, but they brought him little comfort. 

He stayed there for some time. One by one his old friends came outside as well, until nearly all the original Digidestined were gathered together beside the flower bed. Takeru stared at the flowers, not looking at the others. 

"What will I do?" he asked. "I just can't see ... can't see how I will live after Hikari's gone." 

"You still have the crest of Hope, Takeru," said Ken. "Hope kept you going after we lost Yamato. It will keep you after Hikari's left us." 

_He had to mention Yamato now,_ Takeru thought bitterly. _If only he knew how much it still bothers me. _

"I don't see how. It was a real struggle after my brother died, and I had Hikari and you people to see me through. We were both younger and stronger then. If ..." He faltered, unable to accept the idea his wife of nearly sixty years could be taken away so suddenly. "If she's not here ... all I'll be able to do is sit around and wait for Patamon to appear." 

"Takeru, don't talk like that!" admonished Miyako. 

"We're here, and we'll be for you always," added Iori. "We've never given up on each other." 

Takeru looked around at his friends. "True, we never have. Except once ..." 

Cyan grimaced. This was an old and tired story. "Are you still beating yourself up over Yamato?" he asked. He had never lost his direct North American manner, despite a lifetime spent in Japan. 

"That was thirty years ago," Daisuke added. 

"Still doesn't make it right!" Takeru retorted. Bitterness crept into his voice. "With what's been happening this past week, I can't help but think of it." 

"And thinking about it won't fix it," said Cyan. He realised Takeru was out here not because of Hikari, but to nurse an old wound. "It's far too late now." 

"Why are you still holding on to that hurt?" asked Iori. 

"He was my brother! I didn't look after him." 

Now it was Iori's turn to look at the ground. Of all Takeru's friends he was probably the closest; the one Takeru had turned to those bleak days so long ago. But as the years went by, Takeru had refused to let go of his guilt, and along with Cyan, Iori had grown weary of talking to him about it. 

"He didn't exactly make it easy for you to do so," said Taichi. 

"In fact, I'm pretty sure he went to Wakkanai to get away from us," Sora added. "You can't be much further from Tokyo and still be in Japan." 

"That's not the point!" Years of brooding had sharpened his arguments, and he would not be convinced otherwise. "I should have been there. I should have gone looking for him after he called me from Wakkanai." 

A gasp came from most of the others around him. Only Iori and Cyan had ever known this part of the story. There was an uneasy silence, then Koushiro asked, "You mean, you talked with Yamato before he died?" 

Takeru bowed his head. He spoke quietly. "About a week before. I got a call from him; I think he was at a public pay phone somewhere in Wakkanai. The bus depot, maybe. He asked me to go there and help him out with finding a place to stay." 

"And you didn't ..." said Miyako. 

"No. I'd helped him out before--or tried to. Twice, at least. A couple of times Hikari and I had given him a some money in the hopes he could get his life back together." 

"He never did recover from the breakup of the band," said Taichi. 

"Washed up and a has-been at twenty-five," added Daisuke. 

Takeru shot him an angry glance before looking down again. "I tried to help him. But he could never get away from the cheap sake and whatever else he was pouring into himself ... and this was at the time Youkou was really mixed up with that extreme Gesshoko cult ... so I told him no, we'd give him help if he came back to Odaiba." 

Miyako regarded Takeru, sadness in her eyes. She had known heartbreak, too, but nothing like what her friend was describing now. "He never made it back, did he?" 

"No. A week later he was gone, written off by me and everybody else as just another homeless drunk." 

The gathered Digidestined looked at Takeru, wonder and compassion in their eyes. After so many years they finally understood why Yamato's sudden death had affected him so. 

"We didn't know ..." said Ken softly. 

"You must have felt just awful," Sora sad. 

"It was a very difficult time," said Takeru. "I've never really gotten over it. And now with Hikari going, I feel like I'm losing the only other person who really mattered in my life." 

Jyou, silent to now, spoke. "We've said it before, Takeru, and I'll repeat it: we're all here for you. Now, and after Hikari leaves us. But try not to distress yourself further thinking on an old mistake. Thirty years is a long time to carry around a regret." 

"You're right, it is," said Takreu. He spoke in a conciliatory tone. "But it's been so tough. I've never been able to shake the feeling I let Yamato down just when he needed me most." 

"You're doing it again," said Iori, as gently as he could. "Let's go back inside. We've been out here a couple of hours, and I'm sure Hikari misses you." 

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The conversation in the garden failed to assuage Takeru's ongoing guilt; he had spent too many years working on it. Worse, it cast a pall over the already unsettled digidestined. Seeing them come in from the garden with grave expressions on their faces, their children and grandchildren quieted down. 

Hikari's condition remained unchanged. Ken and Daisuke made arrangements for food to be brought in, enough for the crowd gathered there. The dinner was a sombre affair; everyone ate quietly together, sitting where they could in the small house. Even Hikari ate a little, though her appetite had all but left her. 

Then, unplanned, Taichi brought out a bottle of sake, and everyone gathered in the living room, surrounding Hikari and Takeru on the couch. The lights were dimmed; candles lit. 

Iori lit incense. It was an unusual gesture, for incense was normally reserved for after the funeral. But when they looked with questioning expressions to Hikari, she made no move to object, and so they let it burn. The smoke curled from the stick's tip and wafted about, filling the living room with a gentle scent. 

The sake was opened, and one by one in the dim light each poured a glass for one another. With each drink they recalled about their life together with Hikari. 

"Remember the convention centre, when Myotismon was looking for you?" asked Sora. 

Hikari did. "I gave myself up to save you then. And all of you came after me. Just like you're doing now." 

"You know, you scared the heck out of me when you did that. I was only just getting to know you, and it seemed like we might lose you forever. I was so relieved to find you safe and sound." 

Taichi spoke after his wife. "There's so much to say ... I really don't know where to start. It was really strange finding out all those years ago my little sister was the eighth digidestined child ... that Gatomon was your digimon, after all the trouble she caused us. How you got married before I did. How Akio was going to school by the time Sora and I started thinking about having a family. You did so many things in life before I did, yet all along I still thought of you as my `little' sister. You are the greatest little sister anyone could hope to have." 

He poured sake for Koushiro and Miyako, and passed the bottle on to them. Miyako said, "There's many things I remember, but the most vivid has to be the the first time Gatomon and Aquilamon jogressed together to form Silphymon." 

"We needed him to protect us from Blossomon." Hikari warmed to the memory. "Having them jogress like that really brought us together. You've been as close as a sister ever since. So long ago that was." 

"Yes, we have been close. Did you ever notice that we both have one son and two daughters? That we've never once forgotten each other's birthday or wedding anniversary? That we've taken up the same hobbies at the same time, and always encouraged each other to do better? We have the digimon to thank for that. They brought us together." 

Koushirio spoke. "Earlier there was the time in Machinedramon's city, when you were ill and Taichi and I went to find help. Sora, Takeru, and Cyan stayed behind to protect you." 

Taichi jumped in, out of turn. "You going into the network with that little Pineapple computer almost caused him to find us half a dozen times." 

Koushiro continued. "Yes. Good thing we figured it out in time. Then when we were coming back we saw the building you were in get hit by a missile. I thought everything was over then; that you and Sora and the others had been killed. Then another missile came at us and we thought we were done for, too." 

"Takeru saw Megadramon and Gigadramon in the sky, destroying everything," said Hikari said, "so he figured we'd best leave the building." 

"Then Angemon appeared and saved the whole lot of us. Was I ever glad to see him! Seeing he was there, I knew Takeru was safe, and if he was safe, then you were, too." 

Koushiro filled two glasses for Jyou and his wife. Jyou spoke for them both. "Well, I remember fretting anxiously over you when you were carrying Akio. He came along during my internship, and both of you sought me out to care for you during the pregnancy. I'm not sure which of the three of us was the most nervous." 

Hikari managed a smile, and there was even a twinkle in her eye. "You were, Jyou! And you were almost as nervous for my daughters." 

Jyou poured sake for Iori and his wife. "I remember when we were trapped under the oil rig while searching for the digimental of faith," Iori said. "You had us draw straws to see who would take the escape pod and get help: whoever got the one with the red tip would have to go. I got suspicious when Takeru pushed Daisuke out of the way to make sure I would draw first. Of course, you had painted all the tips red!" He smiled as he said it. "It was a good ploy, really. You might have done well in politics." 

"I leave politics to the politicians," Hikari replied, "and you're one of the best in Japan. It's been fascinating watching your career. I'm surprised you never made Prime Minister." 

Iori put on a rare smile. "I did not want the job. The Prime Minister is, as they say, a big target. I prefer to keep a lower profile." 

"Did I ever apologize for trying to fool you like that?" 

"More than once. And Takeru did as well, for both of you were in on the ruse." Then he poured for Cyan. 

Cyan stared at his glass, silent for some time. "Don't have much to say, really. Even when I thought I had lost everything, I found a home here; you, TK, Matt ...." He stopped himself; smiled. "I never did get away from using those nicknames. I've lived half a world away from where I grew up, but with both of you as friends, I wouldn't have had it any other way." 

He accepted a glass from Youkou, poured some sake into it, and gave it to Ken. 

Ken sipped at the wine. He spoke softly, as he always did. "I guess out of all us digidestined, I probably know you the least. But I've watched you and Takeru raise three children, see grandchildren and even great-grandchildren, and stay together for fifty-nine years through everything. Both of you are a testament to the Digidestined, and set a standard I could only hope to match." 

"You've done better than you've ever given yourself credit for," said Hikari. "Just look at all the friends gathered around you." 

Ken nodded slowly, then carefully poured a glass for his old friend Daisuke. 

"Of all the silly things," he said, "I still remember that crazy crush I had on you we were kids. I ... I guess I did a lot of silly things back then. Especially when I thought Takeru was moving in on you. But everything's worked out well. You did all right marrying him, and Mimi and I shared so many wonderful years together, and the circle was made complete when Hideki married Mariko." 

The marriage he referred to had been the cause of some amazement and celebration among them, for it matched up the son of Daisuke and Mimi with the daughter of Takeru and Sora. All the in-laws were Digidestined, even if the happy couple was not, and there had been hope their children might be Digidestined. There was disappointment when neither their son Takeo nor their daughter Kumi were. But a measure of relief, too: the Digital World could often be a dangerous place. Daisuke filled a glass for Takeru's oldest child, his son Akio. 

Akio was clearly reluctant to speak. Eminently reserved, he was not a man to share his feelings in front of others; especially about his mother, whom he loved deeply. But when he finally spoke, he was profound in his simple choice of words. "I have been blessed with wonderful parents." 

He drank exactly a quarter of his glass, and poured one for the older of his two sisters. 

"You were always here for me." Youkou looked directly at her mother. "You had such an easy time raising my brother and sister, and I kind of made it my job to make things difficult for you. It wasn't until so much later that I even began to realize what special parents I had. Not one but two Digidestined ... the crests of Hope and Light. I'm still trying to figure it all out, but your Light is finally starting to shine for me." Then she poured a glass for her younger sister. 

Mariko, always the chatterbox among her siblings, tried hard to keep hers short. "I thought it was so neat having parents who were Digidestined. You and Dad were never short for stories to tell us at bed-time, and it was such a surprise finding out they were actually true! I mean, you actually had _photographs_ of all the digimon, and pictures from some of the battles you fought together. In fact, because uncle Taichi and uncle Yamato and all your friends were digidestined too, I had a hard time understanding that it wasn't every kid in Japan whose parents had been in the Digital World. You helped me with that idea, Mom, that somehow you and Dad were special because of it, and we were, too, even though neither me nor my brother nor my sister ever got to go there. And when we found out a few years ago Keizo was digidestined too, it was just wonderful watching you and him talk together about it. It made me feel so proud, seeing the special bond you and Keizo share, listening to you two talk about the Digital World and everything in it. It sounds like the it's pretty much the same as it was when we were kids, and I know Akio and Cheiko really appreciate how you've been helping him understand the Digital World and all the digimon living there ..." 

Beside her, Akio nudged her gently. Mariko stopped talking and poured out a glass of sake. She looked around, trying to decide who to give it to, and settled on her son Takeo, the eldest of Takeru's grandchildren. 

But instead of speaking, Takeo turned to his twelve-year-old cousin Keizo and gave him the glass. And Akio, the boy's father, gently pushed him to the front. The boy looked about at his relatives and their friends, a touch nervous, his face a picture of sadness. 

Keizo was very much like his grandfather, blonde haired and blue-eyed; outgoing, always ready to say something kind. But now he was on the verge of tears. He took a cautious sip of the rice wine and turned to his grandmother laying on the couch. 

"Kohako-san and Yoshiro-san tell me I should speak for all us grandkids because I'm a digidestined like you. Even though I'm in the Digital World a lot, it's hard to tell what it was like for you, because there are very few bad digimon around anymore. Whenever the digimon find out that you're my grandma, they are almost in awe of that and then they start telling me about all the wonderful things you did for them. It makes me feel so proud." He sniffled. "Beavermon tells me everyone in the Digital World is sad because they know you're not going to be here much longer. And I'm sad too because you won't be around to tell me everything about them." 

Keizo put down his glass on the low table beside the white chrysanthemum, ran to the couch, and threw his arms around his grandmother. "You're the best grandma ever! I love you!" 

Hikari held her grandson for a few minutes while he cried, and a tear or two rolled down her cheek as well. 

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"I don't want to go back to the bedroom tonight," Hikari whispered to Takeru. "I'll sleep here, and see the sunlight when I wake in the morning." 

So Hikari spent her last night in the living room resting on the couch. Takeru could not abide the thought of sleeping alone in their bed while his beloved wife lay in another room, so he found some blankets and made a bed of sorts for himself on the living room floor beside the couch. 

He offered the bed to Cyan, but he refused it, saying he did not feel comfortable sleeping there. When Takeru insisted, Cyan went to the bedroom, but like Takeru slept on the floor. 

Morning came. Hikari was awake and conscious, but her strength had left her. For breakfast Takeru heated some soup. With great patience he fed it spoonful by spoonful to his wife. Hikari weakly protested the ministrations, but accepted the soup with the same love with which Takeru fed it to her. 

Jyou came around later that morning. With Takeru watching intently, he briefly scanned Hikari with his medicomp, then put it away. When he turned to look at Takeru, his face told his friend all he needed to know. Takeru clasped Hikari's hand and vainly tried to fight back his tears. 

Discreetly, Jyou made a couple of vidphone calls. 

Early in the afternoon Takeru's family and digidestined friends started arriving again. Grandson Takeo stayed close to the door, quietly asking each new arrival to see Jyou in the spare room. There, with as much dignity and care as he knew how, the elderly doctor explained how he expected Hikari's last few minutes would go. He knew from long experience how people often said strange things or made unsettling sounds as the time approached. It was best, he felt, to inform them beforehand, so they would know what to expect and not be alarmed. 

There was an anxious moment when Akio arrived with his wife and all three children. Was it proper, Jyou wondered, having a twelve-year-old present at such a time? He conferred with Akio and Iori. As usual, Akio said little, only that he had asked Keizo if he wanted to come, and his son had said yes. Then Iori asked Keizo the same question and got the same response. So Jyou gave them all the same talk he had given all the others. 

As always, in the living room together on the couch, were Hikari and Takeru. Takeru looked old now, the last few days weighing heavily on him. By contrast Hikari looked as rested and peaceful as the white chrysanthemum floating in its bowl on the table, smiling gently at everyone, alert and following the conversation. 

If she felt any sorrow at her imminent passing, she showed no sign of it. 

---------------------------------------- 

The day dragged along, as if time itself was slowing down to give Hikari and those who loved her more time to be together. In the late afternoon dinner was brought in again, although in less quantity, for no one was hungry. 

The sun began to set, changing slowly from bright white to deep orange, its rays glinting off the crystal bowl holding the white chysanthemum. The sunset's graceful calm was suddenly interrupted by a brilliant flash from the vidphone screen. Cyan's computer-sheets and Keizo's digiwatch also jumped to life, and into the room came Gatomon, Palmon, Gabumon, and Beavermon. 

Gatomon ran to the couch and raised herself up on her hind legs so she could put her front paws on her digidestined's arms. Palmon and Gabumon came close too, while Beavermon waddled over to Keizo. The boy wrapped his arms about his digimon, grateful to have him close. 

"I'm here," said Gatomon. "I'll see you safe to the other side." 

Hikari gazed at her lifelong digimon friend, feeling the warm paws on her arm. She smiled weakly, but happily. 

But Takeru looked at his brother's digimon, and his face showed plainly all the pain and guilt he felt over Yamato. Thirty years he had agonized over it; seeing Gabumon here brought it all to the fore. 

Gabumon did not turn away. He met Takeru's gaze; met the pain and guilt. Deeply moved, he said quietly, "Takeru! Remember your Crest, and Hikari's." 

Takeru replied: there was no bitterness in his voice, just a sadness borne of three decades of regrets. "I remember them, but they do not comfort me." 

"No comfort?" asked Gabumon. "Has Hope failed you at last?" 

"Not _at last,_ Gabumon. It failed me thirty years ago, when Yamato paid dearly for my mistake." 

"Your mistake?" Gabumon asked softly. "Was Patamon correct, that you do not know he never saw it as a mistake on your part?" 

"He didn't?" 

"Not at all. He understood." 

Takeru's old eyes went wide. He regarded the digimon with wonder, and astonishment played over his features. "He didn't blame me for not helping him?" 

"Never, Takeru. He blamed himself, as he always did when his life went wrong. I was there at the last, where we talked long and deeply, like we had when we both were young. I did not hear an unkind word from him that night about you. I am sure he felt badly about calling you and asking for help, putting you on the spot like he did." 

A brief pause now, before Takeru spoke again, as though he was wondering if he should even ask what was on his mind. He leaned close to Gabumon and whispered, so that no one else could hear, "Was he sober when he said those things?" 

"Indeed he was," Gabumon whispered back. Then he backed up a little and spoke in a normal voice. "He knew what he was talking about, and he spoke of his love and respect for you: how you and Hikari cared for him, how you had helped him twice when he did not deserve it." 

Takeru's guilt softened, but it would not be done so easily. "I'm relieved to hear after so long that Yamato didn't blame me for not helping him. But how can I forgive myself? I should have been there ... he was my brother." 

"Forgive yourself for what?" asked Gabumon. "Thirty years now Patamon has watched with sadness and sorrow as you've turned this against yourself. How he wished he could return with me and tell you everything was all right, that the way you felt was based on wrong assumptions. Your brother was lost to us even before he called you." 

"What?" Amazement. All those years, and Takeru had never suspected this. 

"He was dying, Takeru. He knew his time was short, and desperately wanted to make sure everything was all right between you two before he left." 

And shock. Had Takeru really missed so completely what it was his brother had been saying all those years ago? "He--he didn't tell me he was dying ..." 

"He did not know how to say it. Especially over a telephone in a public place. Yamato was really trying to find a way to say good-bye, Takeru, hoping you would be able to make a trip to Wakkanai, so he could see you and Hikari, and perhaps Akio, Youkou, and Mariko one last time." 

"That's why he called me? To say good-bye?" 

"Yes. And that he loved you, and held nothing against you. For anything." 

Gabumon's kind words fell like a gentle rain on Takeru's burdened soul. At long last the walls of his guilt began to crumble. Gabumon's message from Yamato, delayed thirty years in the digital world, managed to do what Iori and Cyan could not. Takeru finally forgave himself. 

Forgave himself for not helping Yamato, for he realised now Yamato had not needed it; forgave himself for not being there when Yamato died, for Yamato had not seen any wrong in his absence, and so had nothing against his brother that he felt he needed to forgive. 

The last piece to fall was foolish pride, a pride he had built up believing he had kept his brother's memory alive, when all along he had only been punishing himself. 

---------------------------------------- 

"Takeru?" The name came in a whisper. Hikari's strength was almost done; she could speak only in murmurs. 

Takeru got off the couch, gently moved Gatomon aside, and sat down on the floor close to Hikari's face. Gatomon let him lift her into his lap and hold her up so she could look at Hikari as well, and touch her. 

"I'm here." 

Hikari turned her head to meet her husband's eyes. "I heard everything, Takeru. Everything you and Gabumon said." 

"I wish he had come thirty years ago. All this time I've spent agonizing over a mistake I didn't realize I hadn't made." 

Gabumon came over lay down on the floor beside Takeru, resting his head on Takeru's thigh. 

"You really didn't need Gabumon to tell you that, Takeru," Hikari said. "We tried. Me and Iori and Cyan. We all tried. Never did make it through." 

"I see that now. Strange; I always thought Daisuke was the thick-headed one. How could I have been so blind?" 

Hikari slowly lifted up a hand, searching for her husband. Takeru met it with his and clasped it tight. He could not hug Hikari as he wished to, but kept his other arm around Gatomon. She understood, letting Takeru hold his wife through her. 

"Not blind, my love. Loyal. Loyal to your brother ... who protected you when you were young ... who you protected when you got older. Your love for Yamato, and your loyalty to him, and his memory, made you short sighted. At first you didn't look beyond your feelings to try to touch his. And later on you refused to do so." 

"Can you forgive me for me not listening to you?" 

Hikari turned Takeru's question back to him. "Have you forgiven yourself for not seeing Yamato in Wakkanai?" 

Takeru did not hesitate. "Yes, finally." 

"Then I forgive you, Takeru. And I know Iori and Cyan will as well. All you need to do is ask." 

They went silent for a few minutes, their eyes never leaving each other's. Takeru held both Hikari's hand and Gatomon in unashamed affection for them both, while Gabumon lay beside him. Hikari's breathing became ever more shallow, but never laboured. Then she spoke again, so softly Takeru wondered he even heard her at all. 

"I won't ask you not to cry, my love. I know you too well. But promise me you'll carry on after I'm gone?" 

In spite of himself, Takeru smiled. "I promise. I've let Yamato go. I'll always remember you, but I can let you go, too." 

"Just be happy," said Hikari. "Mourn as you wish. But don't brood over me as you did Yamato." 

"I won't. But I will miss you; we've known each other seventy years. It will take some time to say good-bye." 

"Then say good-bye, and remember me, and find something to fill your days with sunshine and happiness." 

"I'll try to do as you ask, because I love you, Hikari." 

"I know you will, Takeru. And I love you, too." 

Takeru started to say something, but was stopped by Hikari. "No, don't say good-bye ... not just yet." 

She closed her eyes. Takeru held her hand; held on to her digimon. A few minutes later Hikari slowly let out one long, very shallow breath, and did not breath in again. 

Takeru bowed his head. After a short silence, perfectly timed so as not to be too short or too long, Gatomon gently turned around in Takeru's lap to look at him. "You'll see her again, Takeru, and Yamato as well. The Digidestined are never apart for long." 

A soft light glowed briefly about Gatomon, Palmon, and Gabumon, then they, too, were gone. The white chrysanthemum Gatomon had given Hikari a few days before remained behind. 

Still holding Beavermon close, Kiezo whispered to his mother, "Has Grandma left us?" 

"Yes, she has." 

Jyou quietly made a last note on his medicomp. 

---------------------------------------- 

**Appendix:** A timeline of Takeru's Life 

For this story, I constructed a genealogy of sorts for Takeru: three children, five grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, and various in-laws. Even I sometimes have trouble keeping all the names straight, so here's the table I put together. 

Takeru's age 

19 
Marries Hikari 

23 
First son Akio born 

26 
First daughter Youkou born (never marries) 

27 
Second daughter Mariko born 

47 
Brother Yamato dies at age 50, unmarried with no children 

49 
Mariko marries Hideki Motomiya (Daisuke's and Mimi's son) at age 22 

50 
Mariko has a son, Takeo 

52 
Mariko has a daughter, Kumi 

55 
Akio marries Cheiko Miyazaki at age 32 

58 
Akio has a daughter, Kohaku 

59 
Akio has a son, Yoshiro 

66 
Akio unexpectedly has another son, Keizo -- Digidestined 

72 
Takeo marries Sahoko Ijima at age 22 

73 
Great-grandson Masakumi born to Takeo and Sahoko (Digidestined, but that's not known just now) 

75 
Great-granddaughter Hikari born to Takeo and Sahoko 

75 
Kumi marries Kanehiro Fukada at 23 

78 
(Date of this story) Hikari dies   
Son Akio is 55; his children: Kohaku 20, Yoshiro 19, and Keizo 12   
Youkou is 52 and unmarried   
Mariko is 51; her children: Takeo 28, Kumi 26   
Takeo's children: Masakumi 5, Hikari 3   
Kumi has a baby on the way   
Other Digidestined: Taichi 81, Yamato (deceased), Sora 81, Jyou 82, Koushiro 80, Mimi (deceased), Hikari 78, Daisuke 78, Miyako 79, Iori 76, Ken 78, Cyan 78 


End file.
